Forever
by chocolaterose093
Summary: Shawn wakes up to a completely different Santa Barbara, and sets out to make it right again. Sequel to "Tomorrow". Shassie Slash
1. Chapter 1

_**Hello again! Chocolaterose here! I got lots of great feedback for my story "Tomorrow", so I decided to make a sequel! It is not, however, a songfic like "Tomorrow" was, and it's in Shawn's point of view. It'll probably be two chapters, but it could turn into three. **_

_****This fic is dedicated to islashlove and Gothicragdoll, for being my first reviewers and encouraging me to write this! Thanks again, guys!****_

_**Reviews and concrit are welcome! Enjoy!**_

**Summary: **_Sequel to "Tomorrow". Shawn wakes up to a completely different Santa Barbara, and sets out to make it right again. Shassie slash_

**Warnings: **_Slash. Angst. Some language, though nothing massively off-putting. Mentions of abuse. T to be safe._

**Disclaimer: **_**I do not own Psych or any of the characters.**_

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**FOREVER**

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_**Part One **_

The sunlight shining through his eyelids roused Shawn out of his deep sleep. He moaned into his pillow and stretched his arms, his eyes still closed. Last night had been the best sleep he'd had in a long time - Lassie had shown up at the door around nine, and he'd kissed Shawn like he'd never kissed him before, touched him gentler than he ever had, and pretty much treated him like a god. They'd ended up spent and tangled in each other's arms, and the last thing the fake psychic had felt was a kiss pressed into his hair. It had been amazing.

But there had been something different about Lassiter last night. He'd seemed strange, not himself in a way. He'd practically begged Shawn for permission to even touch him, and even after it had been granted he'd still hesitated before kissing him. He'd apologized for hurting the younger man, and for causing him to leave their apartment and run to his father's house. But when Shawn had tried to tell Lassiter he was forgiven, the detective had cut him off and said he didn't deserve forgiveness anymore. Shawn had respected that and not said anything else, but he'd tried to show the older man that he really did forgive him by the way he touched him and let himself be touched. Shawn hoped he'd gotten the message through.

Shawn forgave Lassiter for everything, whether it be for forgetting a dinner reservation or for nearly breaking his arm. He knew the detective didn't understand why - hell, even Shawn didn't - but no matter what went wrong, the fake psychic just let it go and gave Lassiter an "it's okay" squeeze of the hand or an "I still love you" kiss.

Perhaps the biggest reason for his persistent forgiveness was the fact that he knew Lassiter like no one else did. He could tell when Lassiter meant something he said and when he didn't. He could tell when the older man was lying, when he was trying to cover up anger or sadness, when he wanted nothing more than to just sleep the day off and relax.

That was how Shawn knew Lassiter felt unbearably guilty about all those fights they'd had - or, more specifically, about the injuries he'd caused. The horror had been clear on his face after every time he'd hit, insulted, or threatened Shawn, and the younger man had picked up on it easily. So the next day, he would let Lassiter know that the incident was all but forgotten, and they would move on.

But he'd still left a few times - twice, to be exact. The first time, because he'd been genuinely scared of Lassiter. Their relationship had just started back then, and it had been a week since Shawn had first moved into the detective's apartment. They'd gotten into a bitter disagreement about something, and things had gone downhill from there.

Words had been said that neither of them had truly meant. Dishes had gone flying, thrown by both of them.

But Lassiter had been the only one to use his fists.

His second swing had connected with the left side of Shawn's face, and because he hadn't fully understood that the older man hadn't meant it, Shawn had quickly fled to a nearby motel.

But lying in that musty bed that night, staring at the cracked, water-damaged ceiling, the fake psychic had decided to give Lassiter another chance. He really liked the detective, maybe even loved him…and you give second chances to the people you love.

So the next day, Shawn had covered the ugly bruise with makeup and had gone to the station around seven, when Lassiter usually went back home. He'd stopped by his lover's office just to talk to him, but when he'd seen the look of pure guilt and misery on Lassiter's face, he'd simply gone up to him and kissed him good and hard, telling him without words that he was forgiven. He'd gone home with the Head Detective that night, and hadn't left again, no matter how brutal and mean their fights got.

Then the fight of last Saturday had happened, and it had been different.

Shawn couldn't even remember what they'd fought about, only that Lassiter had completely exploded. His eyes had practically gone red, and there had been no look of remorse or shame on his flushed face after he'd roughly grabbed Shawn by the back of the neck and bashed his forehead against a wall.

Shawn, woozy from the likely concussion, had looked long and hard at the fuming detective, trying to see the sorrow that usually appeared in his eyes after something like this happened. He waited for an apology of some sort, for some help in getting off the floor, but he'd gotten neither - Lassiter had just cursed at him and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door loudly behind him.

Shawn had believed he'd finally crossed some line that Lassiter had drawn without the younger man knowing, so he'd actually packed up most of his clothes and gone to his dad's place instead of a hotel. He'd wanted to go to Gus's, but his friend was off on some convention or another this week. He was the only one that knew Shawn and Lassiter were in a relationship, so it would've been a little easier to explain how he'd gotten a massive bruise on his forehead.

Henry hadn't known about the relationship, so Shawn had simply told him he'd come here to get away from a group of guys that had beaten him up and threatened to find him at home. This had made Henry want to call the police, but his son had managed to convince him not to by telling him that he already had himself. Luckily, the retired cop had bought it, and Shawn had finally been able to go to bed.

Shawn had stayed at his father's house for more than a week, not once leaving the property or speaking to Lassiter. He hadn't slept well, though, and he'd only eaten one meal a day. Mainly he'd camped out in front of the TV and watched it for a few hours, not really paying any attention.

Yesterday, Henry had told him he was leaving for a fishing tournament in San Francisco and wouldn't be back for a few days. Shawn had barely even registered his father's absence, and he was beginning to think he had become depressed.

Then Lassiter had shown up at the front door, looking more ashamed than he ever had before, and just like that Shawn's life had meaning again.

Shawn reluctantly pulled himself out of the best sleep he'd had in days. With another stretch of his arms and a mumbled "Lassie?", he opened his eyes slightly and looked to his right, expecting to see the older man lying there beside him.

He wasn't.

Shawn was suddenly wide awake. Confusion and disbelief swarmed around in his head, and he wondered briefly if the events of last night had just been a pleasant dream.

But no. Not only was Shawn quite naked, but the mattress and the pillow on the other half of the bed were both indented, suggesting that someone had been lying there before.

The fake psychic still doubted that Lassie would leave him without saying goodbye - no matter how much the detective hurt him, he would never be _that_ insensitive - but there was one other piece of evidence the hyper-observant man picked up that bashed those hopes to pieces. Only he didn't find this evidence with his eyes.

The faint but distinct smell of Carlton Lassiter's American Crew cologne still lingered on the pillowcase.

Shawn's heart clenched in his chest, and he feared it would stop altogether. Despite the fact that he was only propped up on his elbow, a sudden wave of dizziness crashed over him, and he collapsed back onto the bed. His eyes stung, and he choked out a strangled sob. Shock replaced the confusion he had felt, but the disbelief remained as the realization hit him full force.

Lassie had _left him._ Without saying goodbye.

How could he? Why would he?

_Why would he?_

Shawn thought back to the previous night, frantically scanning his memories from it for any clues that this might have happened, any hints that the detective had been planning to do this to him. As he thought back, he realized that there were several.

_He seemed almost scared of me…his hands were shaking…he was still in his work clothes…he cut me off when I tried to forgive him…he treated me better than he ever has…_

…_he didn't say it back._

Shawn actually let out a gasp when he realized this. Right before they'd fallen asleep, he'd told Lassiter that he loved him.

But the detective hadn't said it back.

He'd kissed him in a way he'd never kissed him before; he'd touched him like he was touching pure gold; his _actions_ had said "I love you, too"…but he hadn't actually spoken the words.

Maybe everything that had happened last night really _had_ been a goodbye.

It had all been one big apology, for everything that Lassiter had ever done to him. And he hadn't said "I love you" back because it would've made it too hard for him to leave in the morning. There was no way he could've abandoned Shawn like this after telling him he loved him. Last night had been a night of reconciliation for the detective, and nothing more.

A single tear managed to break free from the corner of Shawn's eye, and the brunette didn't even bother to wipe it away. Did this mean that he and Lassie were _over?_ Broken up?

No. No, he'd seen the hunger and the need in the older man's eyes last night. He needed Shawn as much as Shawn needed him, and there was no way he would leave without a damn good reason. He wouldn't just end it like this, not without explaining himself.

Something was very, very wrong.

Shawn knew he had to find Lassiter, and soon. He studied the indents on the pillow and mattress again - they didn't look like they were fresh, and the pillow was cold. Lassiter had left at least an hour ago, maybe longer. Shawn glanced at the clock on the nightstand beside the bed - 7:24 a.m. The Head Detective's shift at the station started at seven. If he had left an hour ago, that would've given him a half hour to get to the station, which was only fifteen minutes from Henry's house. Why would he leave so early?

Unless he wasn't going to the station…

Shawn decided to just stop thinking so hard about it and see if Lassiter was at work. He hurried out of the guest bedroom, got dressed, covered the remainder of the bruise on his forehead with makeup, and headed downstairs. Grabbing the keys for his motorcycle off of the kitchen counter, he practically flew out the back door and hopped on his bike, all the while praying that Lassiter would be at the station when he got there.

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Shawn parked his bike in the usual spot and skimmed his eyes over the cars in front of the station, looking for Lassiter's.

The Head Detective's spot was empty.

"No," Shawn muttered to himself, feeling the tears brimming in his eyes again. "No no no no no…" He ran up the front steps and burst through the doors, making a beeline for Lassiter's office.

He was moving so quickly and his mind was so focused that he almost ran into Juliet when she suddenly appeared in front of him in the hallway.

"Shawn!" she exclaimed, a smile spreading over her face. Her beautiful golden hair was pulled back neatly in a bun, as usual. "You haven't been here all week! Where were you?"

"Uh…out of town. With my dad," Shawn blurted out desperately. He glanced over her shoulder - he could see Lassiter's office door from here. "Listen, Jules, I missed you too, but I've gotta talk to Lassie. It's kinda urgent, so…" He tried to get past her.

Juliet stopped him, however, and said, "Actually, he hasn't come in yet. I've tried calling him, but he won't pick up."

Shawn's eyes snapped back to hers. "He won't?" He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, but he failed.

"No. I'm a little worried."

"Actually, that's what I came here to talk to you two about."

Shawn spun around to find Chief Vick standing behind him, a serious and slightly sympathetic look on her face. She looked at Shawn for a moment and allowed herself a brief smile. "Welcome back, Mr. Spencer."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm back," Shawn replied in an irritated tone. "What was that about Lassie?"

The concerned expression returned to the Chief's face, and she glanced around for a few moments before saying to them in a hushed tone, "Let's talk about this in my office."

Shawn and Juliet exchanged a confused look, but followed Vick into her office obediently, shutting the door behind them. They stood somewhat awkwardly in front of her desk for a few seconds, then sat down in a pair of chairs that she pointed out.

"What's going on, Chief?" Juliet asked, sounding almost as worried as Shawn was feeling.

"Yeah, where's Lassiter?" the fake psychic asked.

Chief Vick let out a long sigh and closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them they were glistening. "First of all, I'm telling you two this in person because I know that you were closer to him than anyone else at the station." She cleared her throat. "Detective Lassiter has…transferred. To the Sacramento Police Department."

Shawn couldn't breathe. _Transferred?_ He was _gone?_ This couldn't be happening. He looked at Juliet in the chair to his left - a look of pure shock and disbelief adorned her usually cheerful features, and her hands were gripping the armrests so tightly that her knuckles were white. It was then that he realized he was doing the same thing, and he forced himself to loosen his grip.

"He t-transferred?" Juliet asked in an almost-whisper, sounding as stunned as she looked. "Why?"

"I'm afraid that's confidential, O'Hara," Vick replied quietly. "But he did tell me to apologize to you for him. He didn't want to tell you he was leaving because he thought you might keep him from doing so." She paused, looking back and forth between the two of them. "I'm sorry."

"Wait, wait," Juliet said, practically ignoring the apology. "Does that mean I have to have another partner now?"

"You will be assigned one as soon as I have the resources to choose someone," Vick said. "For now, you're on your own."

Juliet responded to this by simply leaning back in her chair and staring at the far wall with a blank expression on her face. She didn't say another word.

Shawn, still reeling from this announcement, tried to think of any reason why Lassiter would transfer to Sacramento specifically. He didn't have family there, and there weren't any friends there that Shawn knew of. There was nothing there for him besides the police department, and it's not like the Sacramento Police Department was any better than the one in Santa Barbara. So why would he move almost seven hours away for almost nothing?

The realization hit him almost immediately. The detective had moved to Sacramento _because_ it was seven hours away. Lassiter might seem very strong-willed and self-controlled to most of the people who knew him, but Shawn knew him like no one else did. He knew the detective was actually one to give into temptations and urges very easily. If he'd moved less that five hours away, he would've been tempted to come back to Santa Barbara, and he wouldn't let himself for fear of hurting Shawn again. It was all so clear now.

The fact that Shawn was the only one who could bring Lassiter back was also clear.

"I've got it," he said when he'd gotten his voice back. He jumped out of his chair and started quickly towards the door of the Chief's office.

He was stopped in his tracks by a stern, "Where do you think _you're_ going, Mr. Spencer?"

Shawn whirled around to face Chief Vick, who was now standing behind her desk. "Sacramento," he replied evenly, firmly.

The Chief looked incredulous. "And why would you go there?"

"Because I can get him to come back." The confidence Shawn had was audible in his voice.

The look Juliet gave him was of pity. "Shawn, I know you miss him," she said softly. "I miss him, too. But if he wasn't happy here, then we have to let him go. Besides," she added, "if he didn't stay for me, then I don't think he'll listen to you. If he wants to be in Sacramento rather than here, then-"

"But it's _not_ what he wants!" Shawn insisted, surprising everyone - including himself - with how loud his voice suddenly was. Toning it down a little, he said, "I know why he left, and I can tell you right now that it was the hardest decision he's ever had to make in his entire life. He left because he felt like he _had_ to. He was perfectly happy here, but he knew that if he stayed…" His voice trailed off. "…if he stayed, he'd just be causing pain." He couldn't say to whom.

The two women looked confused. "What do you mean?" Juliet asked.

Shawn glanced back and forth between Vick and Juliet, wanting so much to tell them the truth about his and Lassiter's relationship. But he knew that wasn't what Lassiter wanted. "You'll just have to trust me," he said. "I think I'm the only one who can convince him-"

"I don't _think_ so!" Vick shouted suddenly, cutting him off. She looked into the slightly startled Shawn's eyes. "When he left that transfer request form on my desk, I begged him not to go. I _begged._ But he didn't listen to me." She shifted her gaze briefly to Juliet. "He didn't even want to stay for O'Hara's sake, and she's his partner!" Now there was fury in her eyes. "What in the hell makes you think he'll just come back, as if nothing ever happened, for _you?_"

Shawn was getting pretty angry, as well, but he still hesitated. Should he tell them the truth? How would they react if he did?

He knew it was the only way they would understand, however, so he decided to just go with it.

"Because he _loves_ me."

Ignoring the genuinely shocked expressions of the two women, Shawn turned back towards the door and hurried out, slamming it behind him. He ran down the hall and out of the station, practically jumping onto his bike when he was close enough to it. Shoving his helmet down onto his head, he revved the small engine a few times and set off.

He was going to get his Lassie back, and no one could keep him from doing it.

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_**Well, there you have it! The first chapter! There will probably be another one, and then an epilogue after that. I'm sooooooooo sorry for the delay, it's just that I've been super busy this week and didn't have time to put it up. Hope you like it! Reviews are loooove!**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Hey everyone! So sorry for another too-long wait! Thank you all for the incredibly kind comments you have been giving me and for adding this story to your alert subscriptions and such! It's really motivating, and makes me - and every author - feel loved and appreciated! Thanks again!**_

_**Here is the second chapter of "Forever", the sequel to "Tomorrow". After this there will be an epilogue, probably a short one, and then not much more from me for awhile - I'm leaving the country for a month, so please don't get put off if I don't reply to your comments right away! Thanks so much!**_

_**Enjoy! Reviews and concrit are welcome!**_

**Warnings: **_Angst. Mentions of abuse. Mild Shawn whumpage. Slight language; nothing explicit. Rated T to be safe._

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**FOREVER**

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_**Part Two**_

Shawn rode his motorcycle from Santa Barbara to Sacramento without stopping for anything - food, water, or a rest stop. He even went through three hours of pouring rain, leaving him soaked and chilled to the bone. Still, he pushed on through all this because he knew that Lassiter - the man he loved more than life itself - needed him.

They'd been through a lot, the two of them, but they'd always seemed to work it out in the end. Shawn knew now, however, that no matter how sincerely he forgave Lassiter, the guilt never left the detective's heart and mind. It had eaten away at him like a parasite, destroying him from the inside out, and finally he hadn't been able to take it anymore. Shawn felt idiotic for not seeing that and for not being able to keep it from happening.

Now was his chance to make it all right again, and he was gonna take it no matter what.

The rain had stopped, but it was getting dark by the time Shawn reached the Sacramento Police station - he'd been able to find it without much difficulty. Parking his bike in a guest spot, he slowly eased himself off of it, wincing as his stiff joints shrieked in protest. He hobbled up to the modernistic building and pushed through the glass doors.

While he was taking a moment to warm up and dry off a little, Shawn scanned the inside of the station for the Chief's office. This station was a lot more open than the one back in Santa Barbara, on account of all the glass. It felt somehow more…official and militaristic. Still, he had to admit it was pretty nice.

After a few moments of searching, Shawn spotted the office at the end of a long hallway, and, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from everyone, made his way towards it as fast as he could on his burning knees. "Chief!" he exclaimed breathlessly as he burst through the door.

A middle-aged man with neat brown hair was sitting behind a desk. A nameplate reading "Henry Stevens, Chief of Police" perched on the front of it identified the man as the Chief. He jumped in his chair at Shawn's loud intrusion, dropping the pen he'd been using to sign paperwork. "Um…hello, sir," he said, re-gaining his composure. "May I help-"

"Yes, I'm looking for Detective Carlton Lassiter," Shawn said quickly, interrupting the Chief. "He just transferred here from Santa Barbara. Is he still here?"

Chief Stevens stared at Shawn for a few seconds with questioning brown eyes, but he must've seen the intense urgency in Shawn's hazel ones because he replied calmly, "Detective Lassiter just started this afternoon. I believe he went home about an hour ago. Why? Do you need to speak with him?"

"Yes I do," Shawn said. "I used to work with him - I'm Shawn Spencer, Head Psychic for the SBPD." His self-intro lacked its usual bravado.

"Head Psychic?" Stevens asked, sounding skeptical. "Yes, I've read about you in the papers, but we here at the Sac PD don't believe that 'psychics' are a good use of the Department's resources." He paused, a slight smirk on his face. "And I guess you could say I'm a skeptic."

Normally, Shawn would stage a vision for a skeptic by quickly taking in a few minute details about their clothes or the pictures on their desk, but he was in a hurry. "Well, I'm legit, so just believe it, buddy," he said. "Anyway, do you have Detective Lassiter's address? I really have to talk to him about something."

"Would it be enough to talk to him over the phone?" Stevens asked. He picked up the receiver from the phone on his desk. "I could call him-"

"No, no, I really have to _see_ him," Shawn insisted. "In person. Please…just give me his address."

The Chief looked wary for a moment, hesitating to share that information with a stranger. "How do I know you're who you say you are?" he asked. "Lassiter is a good detective, and a decent man. If you're planning on hurting him or anything, keep in mind you're in a police station right now. We could have you in a holding cell in less than two minutes."

"Look, Lassiter knows me!" Shawn cried, getting frustrated. "You can call up Chief Vick in Santa Barbara to verify it! Hell, you can fingerprint me if you want!" He held out his hands, palms up. "I'm not screwing around, man, I promise. I just need to talk to Lassiter _right now,_ so with all due respect, sir, _could you give me the damn address_?"

Shawn immediately felt guilty about talking to a superior officer like that, and was about to apologize when Chief Stevens handed him a piece of paper with an apartment address on it. "Here," he said as Shawn looked at him, confused. "Clearly it's urgent, because you don't seem like the kind of guy to mouth off to a Police Chief on a regular basis." He offered the younger man a small smile. "Go."

"Thank you, sir," Shawn said respectfully, staring down at the paper. "Thank you." And with that, he limped out of the office and back outside to his bike. Grunting with pain as he sat back down on the thing, he pulled his silver helmet back on and glanced back down at the little paper. Memorizing the address in an instant, he tucked it in his jeans pocket and set off into the night.

_I'm coming, Lassie. I'm coming…_

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Shawn rode his bike for another eight miles before he finally came to the smallish apartment building where Lassiter was supposedly now living. He scanned the dark parking lot until he spotted the detective's Crown Vic. _They let him keep the car?_ Shawn thought vaguely, but didn't linger long and pulled up beside the car, parking his bike in the next space.

He let out an actual moan as he got off the bike again. His joints, impossibly stiff after almost eight hours of staying in the same position, felt like they were on fire. The only thing keeping him from collapsing right there was the thought that Lassie was just inside those doors, and in need of some love and reassurance. Gritting his teeth, Shawn limped up to the door of the building and went inside.

It wasn't hard to pick the lock of the second glass door, and there wasn't a security camera anywhere near, so Shawn got in virtually undetected. "209..." he muttered to himself as he entered, recalling the room number from the paper. "209..."

The seemingly endless staircases of 25 steps or more were hell on Shawn's knees, and he wondered bitterly why this place didn't have an elevator or something as he ascended them. He scanned the rows of doors for the number 209, and finally, on the fifth floor, he found it.

Shawn hobbled up to the door, preparing to knock, when a seed of doubt suddenly planted itself in his mind. What if Lassiter really didn't want to be with him anymore? What if he turned Shawn away? What if he didn't even come to the door? There were so many _what if's_, but Shawn ignored them all and manned up a little. Lifting his bunched up fist, he knocked and waited.

Almost a minute passed, and no one answered.

Shawn knocked again, this time louder.

Still nothing.

"Lassie!" Shawn called as he knocked once more. "Carlton! You in there?"

No response. Shawn's heart beating louder and louder in his ears was the only thing he could hear.

Dread filled him then. What if Lassiter had been so depressed over Shawn that he'd…hurt himself? The thought was almost too painful to bear, and Shawn now pounded on the door. "Carlton Lassiter! Open the door! Please!" he cried, panic rising in his throat.

_Please God…let him be okay…please…_

Finally, the doorknob turned, and Shawn's beating stopped. His eyes glued themselves to the knob as it slowly, hesitantly, turned and the door opened.

An exhausted, pale Carlton Lassiter stood in the doorway. The expression on his face was blank, and his usually shocking blue eyes were dulled slightly. He was wearing an old T-shirt and a pair of dark jeans, and looked like he hadn't slept well in a week when Shawn had only just seen him the night before.

Suddenly recognition flashed in Lassiter's eyes - along with something else Shawn couldn't put his finger on - and the taller man breathed a single syllable that melted Shawn's heart completely: his name.

"Shawn…"

The voice was a tired, weak one, and it also held a degree of disbelief. Shawn's panic slowly faded and was replaced by concern and love, his own pain forgotten. "Oh, Lassie…" he murmured, taking a small step towards Lassiter.

But the detective avoided his touch. He took two steps back, turning his head slightly away from the younger man. "You…shouldn't be here," he said quietly.

Shawn froze, confused. "What do you mean?" he asked, tilting his head to try and make eye contact with the detective.

Lassiter sighed, and his hand slipped limply off of the doorknob. After a few seconds of heavy silence, he finally looked up and met Shawn's eyes. "Why did you follow me here, Shawn?" he asked, somewhat demandingly. "After everything I've done to you, everything I've said to you…" His voice broke and started to waver. "How could you possibly come back to me? How are you not scared?"

_Because I know you. Because I'm not afraid of you._

_Because I love you, Carlton, and I know you love me, too._

Shawn opened his mouth to reply, but the pain in his knees and shoulders suddenly returned with a vengeance, and he swayed a little, letting out a grunt. He fell against the doorframe, noticing that Lassiter hadn't even made a move towards him to hold him up. This hurt him a little. _He's even afraid to touch me…Oh, Lassie…_ "Listen, Lassie, could we have this conversation _inside_ your apartment? I've been riding a motorcycle close to eight hours straight, three of those in the pouring rain, and I can barely stand upright. I need a couch."

Lassiter's face changed ever-so-slightly, as did the look in his eyes. _There it is,_ Shawn thought. _There's that concern, that worry. He still loves me._

The detective helped Shawn over to the small couch on the far wall of his tiny new apartment. The lighting was dim; there were still boxes piled up everywhere, and the only furniture was the couch, the coffee table, and a La-Z-Boy chair in a corner. Shawn plopped heavily down on the couch, groaning at first but then sighing pleasantly, closing his eyes and reveling in the feeling of something soft and comfortable under him for the first time in what felt like eight days rather than eight hours. He suddenly realized he was still damp from the rain, but he didn't care at the moment, and he knew Lassie wouldn't care.

After almost a minute of awkward silence, Lassiter, who had seated himself somewhat cautiously on the coffee table in front of the couch, said quietly, "So?"

Shawn opened his eyes. "So what?"

"So, what in the hell caused you to come back to me?" Lassiter was staring at his hands in his lap, still not meeting Shawn's eyes.

"Oh yeah," Shawn replied. He straightened up slightly. "Actually, I want to know something first."

Lassiter's slouched shoulders visibly stiffened. "What?"

"Why'd you leave?" Shawn's tone was serious.

Three words. Three simple, one-syllable words. How three words other than "I love you" could drive a grown man to suddenly break down was beyond Shawn Spencer, but it happened.

Lassiter's shoulders started to shake, but he didn't make any sound. He just let the tears fall out of his eyes and onto his hands while Shawn watched and listened in awe as he confessed everything in a quavering voice.

"I didn't want to," the detective began. "God knows I didn't want to. But it was for the best - for both of us." For only the second time that night, he met Shawn's hazel eyes with his glistening blue ones. "I hurt you. Badly. No matter how many times I tried to keep myself from doing it, no matter how hard I tried not to…it's just who I am. But you kept forgiving me." Here his voice broke, but he cleared his throat and bravely continued. "You kept forgiving me, Shawn, no matter what I did to you. There were times when I thought I might've hurt you so badly that you'd never forgive me, but you would always show up at my office door and look at me with those damn beautiful eyes of yours and…tell me it was alright…"

A single sob escaped his throat, and Shawn leaned in closer to him, feeling tears well up in his own eyes. He grabbed Lassiter's hands in his and looked him hard in the eyes. "And you felt so guilty about it that you couldn't take it anymore…" he murmured. "…so you left."

"I didn't deserve you," Lassiter said a bit loudly; Shawn knew he was still pissed at himself. "You're so amazing, Shawn, you have no idea. You're kind, and forgiving, and funny, and gorgeous, and you have the greatest smile in the whole damn world, and…I didn't deserve you." He gave Shawn's hands a squeeze. "And you didn't deserve me. I hit you, I insulted you, I _abused_ you. That will never change." He looked down at his lap again. "And neither will the fact that we don't deserve each other."

Shawn stared at him, trying to understand, and the moment he felt the detective's hands leave his own, he did.

"No," he said quietly. _This_ hurt. "No, no, Lassie; I didn't ride my motorcycle in the rain for eight hours for this. I didn't come here to get shot down." He grabbed Lassiter's hands again, this time holding on tight.

"Then what _did_ you come here for, Shawn?" Lassiter asked, sounding slightly angry. He looked back up at the younger man. "To tell me I'm forgiven again? I'm sorry, but I don't think I can stand to hear those words again. I don't deserve them." He freed his hands from Shawn's vice grip and stood up, turning his back on the brunette. "I've hurt you too many times to ever deserve them again."

"Well too bad, because that's _exactly_ what I came here for," Shawn said, still sitting on the couch, looking up at Lassiter. He got to his feet and walked over to the detective, stopping a few feet behind him. Staring at the back of the taller man's head, Shawn said in a forced steady voice, "You asked me what caused me to come back to you. I'll tell you - it's because I love you, Carlton. I _love_ you. And you forgive the people you love, no matter what they do." He paused for a moment, biting his bottom lip to stop it from quavering. "Last night is evidence that you still love me, too."

"Don't you hate me?" Lassiter's voice was small and broken.

"No," Shawn replied evenly, and this made the detective turn around. Their eyes locked, and the fake psychic continued. "And I will _never_ hate you. I know you didn't mean everything you did, and I knew it even as it was happening. I knew it because I knew you loved me too much to ever mean it, and that was enough to keep me from running. I had someone who loved me."

"How could you tell?" Lassiter asked another question. "How could you have possibly been able to tell that I still loved you, when I didn't show it? And don't give me any of that 'I'm psychic' crap, because you told me you were a fake, remember."

"I know, I know," Shawn said with the faintest smile. "You showed that you still loved me in the way you helped me up from the ground after hitting me, the way you kissed my bruises so softly I could barely feel it, the way you looked so ashamed after every time you hurt me." He thought for a moment. "Maybe that's not what you expected to hear, but it's true. And you proved it the most every time you kissed me, like you felt so lucky just to be able to touch me."

"I did," Lassiter said, almost to himself. He looked into Shawn's tear-filled eyes with his own, just staring into them for a few seconds. "I never said this enough, Shawn - I am so, _so_ sorry. I know words aren't the best apology, but it's all I can manage right now."

"No it's not," Shawn said with a slight smirk. He took a few steps towards Lassiter, grinning devilishly. "There's still…one more way to prove it…"

Carlton watched Shawn for a few seconds, and almost looked like he would reach out to the younger man, but he stopped himself. "No," he said. "No, I…I can't do this." He looked away. "I'd just end up hurting you again."

"I know you can change," Shawn said encouragingly. He walked slowly up to Carlton and placed a hand on the older man's shoulder, ignoring the faint flinch under his touch. "I can help you change, if you'll let me."

Lassiter looked up again. "I want to," he said quietly. "You know I want to, it's just…I-I don't-"

"Ssh," Shawn whispered, placing a finger on Lassiter's lips to still them. He brought his hand down when he had the man's full attention. "Don't say you can't anymore. You can. Don't say…anything else…" He leaned in towards the detective, and a second later, their mouths connected.

Shawn felt Lassiter freeze, and he knew the older man was still hesitant to do this. So he pressed his lips harder against Lassiter's, wrapping his arms tightly around the stiff neck. _I'll make him respond,_ he thought.

It didn't take much to accomplish that, because three seconds after this Lassiter seemed to throw all caution to the wind and kissed Shawn back with everything he had. He wound his lanky arms around the younger man's waist and pulled him closer, acting like he never wanted to let go. The urgency, the want, the _need_ - it was there, and Shawn could feel it. _There's my Lassieface._

They stood there for what seemed like hours in the middle of the dimly-lit living room, kissing like they hadn't in years when it hadn't even been twenty-four hours. Tongues explored, teeth grazed, hands groped, arms held. It was the best kiss Shawn could ever remember experiencing. He felt lighter than a feather - lighter than air. He was floating, and he feared if Lassie let go of him he would drift away. So he held on even tighter.

After a good ten minutes of this, the two men broke apart for air. Both of their faces were damp, and they reached up to dry the other's tears.

Lassiter touched his forehead to Shawn's, a genuine smile on his face for the first time that night. Then a serious expression replaced it. "I will do anything and everything to change for you, Shawn," he promised solemnly. "I swear it."

"I'll hold you to that, Lassieface," Shawn said with a smile of his own. "And I'll help you in any way I can."

Lassiter responded with another heated kiss to the other man's lips. "Oh Shawn…" he murmured as he moved his mouth from Shawn's lips to his neck. "You're…you're so beautiful…so amazing…"

Shawn took a moment to revel in the feeling of Lassiter's lips on his neck, tangling his fingers in the dark hair, then replied somewhat breathlessly, "Make me feel beautiful."

Lassiter's head snapped up, and their gazes locked. Shawn could see the hunger, the desire, the _need_ in the taller man's eyes, and he grinned. "You want me back, Lassie?"

"Hell yes," Lassiter replied in a low growl, and he kissed Shawn again.

The kiss didn't last long, however, as the pain suddenly returned to Shawn's stiff joints, and he let out a sharp gasp, breaking the kiss. He wobbled on his feet for a few moments, then started to fall.

But Lassiter caught him this time, and carefully scooped Shawn up in his strong arms. Shawn smiled up at him, somewhat sheepishly. "Riding a motorcycle for eight hours can make a guy's knees pretty damn sore."

Lassiter pressed a kiss into Shawn's mussed hair. "I'll be gentle with you," he breathed against the brunette's ear.

Shawn answered with a kiss, and the two of them headed for the bedroom.

Ten minutes later, they were lying on Lassiter's bed, their clothes scattered all around the room, and a half hour later, they were a sweaty, heaving mass of limbs.

Shawn pressed a sweet kiss to the still-panting Carlton Lassiter's lips. "Just one condition," he said between his own heavy breaths. "You have to come back to Santa Barbara. Tomorrow."

Lassiter looked at him and smiled. "Done." He kissed Shawn back. "Santa Barbara's more exciting, anyway."

"You know that's right," Shawn said with a small laugh.

After a few seconds of silence, Lassiter said quietly, his uncertainty back, "How long will you love me, Shawn? Until I'm too old? Until I can't walk?"

Shawn shook his head. "No, Lassie." He lifted a hand and gently caressed the side of Lassiter's face. "Forever. I'll love you forever."

Lassiter just smiled, kissed him again, and let his head fall back onto the pillow. Shawn nuzzled his face into the crook of Lassiter's neck and wrapped his arms around the detective's torso.

Five minutes later, they were asleep.

And neither of them had ever been happier in their entire lives.

**~·~****·~****·~****·~**

_**So, there you have it! The second (and technically last) chapter of "Forever"! Shortish epilogue to come soon! I hope you liked it!**_

_**Some final notes: I live in Illinois, and have never been to California in my life. The information on the Sac PD was info I found from Google research. I used the actual Chief's characteristics, but I changed his name, and I hope I described the right building. If I didn't, feel free to tell me and I will change it!**_

_**Thanks again for reading, and continue to review!**_


	3. Epilogue: One Week Later

_**Hello again! Here's the epilogue to "Forever"! Thanks again for all the reviews and support you all have given me; it means a whole lot!**_

_**And just a quick note: I will be leaving the country this week for a month, so I will not be writing anything during that time or replying to any of your reviews. I will be brainstorming, though, and will get to you reviews as soon as I can, don't worry! See you all then, and thanks in advance!**_

**Warnings: **_Nothing but fluff in this chapter!_

**Disclaimer: **_**I don't own Psych or anything else. **_

_**Without further ado, the short and sweet epilogue:**_

**~·~****·~****·~****·~**

**FOREVER**

**~·~****·~****·~****·~**

_**Epilogue: One Week Later**_

"I thought you said the turtle ate it!"

"No, no, Lassie; the turtle was actually framed. It was really the _gerbil._"

"Oh…that makes sense now."

"See? Told you it would!"

"Psychic" Shawn Spencer and Head Detective Carlton Lassiter walked down the main hallway of the SBPD station together, side-by-side and hand-in-hand. Chief Vick and Juliet had not forgotten the fact that Shawn had said Lassiter loved him, and as soon as the two men returned from Sacramento they were questioned in the actual interrogation room to determine the meaning of that statement. In the end, they'd decided it would be stupid to try and hide their relationship any longer, and had officially announced it to the station that day.

Juliet had been shocked, but after a few minutes of thinking it over she had decided to be supportive of her friends and tell them she was happy for them. Chief Vick had seemed surprised, but had also told them they had her blessing. Gus hadn't cared - he'd known already. Most of the police officers had been fine with it, as well, and Buzz had even congratulated them.

Lassiter had assured everyone that this relationship did not make him any less their superior, and Shawn had agreed to that, much to the Head Detective's surprise. In the end, it had all turned out fine, and they didn't have to save their kisses for the isolation of Lassiter's dimly-lit office anymore.

Still, for old times' sake, they sometimes stole away to the small room and locked the door behind them to ease each other's stress if it had been a long day.

Today had been a long day.

"So," Shawn said after his sharing of that ridiculous story from his 7th grade year, "are we going where I think we're going, Lassiefrass?"

"You bet we are, Spencer," Lassiter replied, his voice already getting gruff. He squeezed Shawn's hand and tugged slightly, speeding up his pace.

When they were safely behind the door, Lassiter embraced Shawn as tight as he possibly could and kissed the younger man long and hard. After a minute or so of that, they broke away for some oxygen, and instead of diving right back in again Lassiter simply wrapped his arms tightly around Shawn, burying his face in the spiky brown hair.

Shawn hugged the detective back. "What's this for?" he asked quietly, nuzzling into the strong chest.

"For being you," Lassiter replied, his voice muffled by Shawn's hair. "For forgiving me of everything. For helping me change. For promising to love me forever." He pulled back a little to look into the bright hazel eyes. "Especially that last one."

Shawn simply smiled and kissed Lassiter sweetly. "You bet," he said.

**~·~****·~****·~****·~**

**THE END!**


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